What Getting Naked In Front of Other Women At a Korean Bathhouse Taught Me About My Body

Go nude or go home.

Most Popular

GIF

Designed by Megan Tatem

AuthorCreated with Sketch.

By Bryanne Salazar

Dec 16, 2016

The first time I heard about a jjimjilbang, or Korean bathhouse, I couldn't help but be intrigued. Friends told me it was a relaxing type of spa where women experienced luxurious pools, saunas, and treatments — all while fully nude.

Nudity had never been an issue for me until after childbirth, when a stretched abdomen and saggy breasts took up permanent residence on my body. I even tried to get a breast lift to reclaim my self-confidence, but the procedure left me with botched, scarred, and concave breasts, thus ending any desire I had to be naked in front of someone else.

Advertisement - Continue Reading Below

I still went to the spa, but never indulged in treatments that required full nudity. Even my own husband hadn't seen me completely naked since 2003, a decision he constantly challenged by inviting me to shower with him after half-clothed sex (I always said no). He told me in a hundred different ways that he loved me and found me beautiful, but my conviction that I was disgusting was so strong, even the person I trusted most in the world couldn't get me to budge.

Most Popular

The jjimjilbang, therefore, presented a unique problem: I loved being pampered. I truly wanted to experience a Korean bathhouse firsthand. But the requirement of unabashed nudity placed the spa far outside my comfort zone.

The one redeeming part was that it was full of strangers, not friends and family that I would see day after day, wondering if they were as horrified by my body as I was. I thought of it like pelvic exams and bra fittings, times when I was able to cope with exposing myself to others and managed to survive.

Even my own husband hadn't seen me completely naked since 2003.

As long as no one I knew was in the jjimjilbang while I was naked, I could do it. Disgust from strangers seemed so much more bearable than from the people I loved. With that, I decided to give the bathhouse a chance.

Advertisement - Continue Reading Below

While some jjimjilbangs are male or female only, the one I chose to go to was co-ed, although any areas that required nudity were kept strictly separate. For moral support, I brought my husband with me. Although we would spend the day apart, the ability to share my fears beforehand and compare stories after made his presence incredibly comforting. Plus, he likes being pampered, too.

Inside the bathhouse, we selected our services and paid. All-day admission and a full body scrub cost just $60 per person, a total steal.

We got our locker keys, matching cotton outfits for the not-naked common area, and were given a firm warning that inside the pools, no clothes were allowed. As the receptionist spoke, my mantra you can do this was running on loop in my head. My husband, knowing how big of a deal it was, asked me if I was ready.

I swallowed hard and nodded. Then, we parted ways.

I turned the corner into the women's area and immediately saw dozens of naked bodies. It wasn't like the gym, where people would quickly undress and not make eye contact. There were fully nude women of every age and body type, standing around talking and laughing with one another like they weren't even naked.

Some women were round and lumpy, like me, while others were slender or somewhere in between. Many women were older, wearing their gray pubic hair like badges of honor. There was a wide variety of women, all of whom seemed relaxed in their own skin, not sucking in their bellies, not caring how far their breasts drooped. It was the most honest expression of femininity I'd ever witnessed.

Knowing better than to stand and stare, I decided to change. I hid behind my open locker door and quickly peeled off my clothes, slipping into the soft common-area attire, hoping no one would see me. I knew, logically, no one cared what I looked like, but I also read the news and remembered a relatively recent story about a model taking a picture of a naked woman in a locker room to make fun of her on social media. Stories like that, and thoughts of other women possibly making fun of me, made it hard to go bare right away.

Advertisement - Continue Reading Below

Getty

Once redressed, I investigated my surroundings. Next to the lockers were vanities with brightly lit mirrors and styling stations. Women were blowdrying their hair and applying lip gloss, or just examining their bodies as if they were alone at home. Some women had stretch marks and fluffy stomachs, and one woman had clearly reconstructed breasts without any nipples or areola, yet no one seemed self-conscious. Their boldness was strange and beautiful. What did they know that I didn't?

Near the vanities were the pools, blocked by a short wall of baskets where women who hadn't yet disrobed could store their clothes before entering. I knew beyond that wall, I couldn't hide anymore. A woman blocked the doorway, bent over to examine her toes, not caring about her exposed backside. Like a lighthouse, her butt was a beacon, calling me to join my naked sisters.

I undressed the same way I eat cereal or ask for the news: worst part first, save the best for last. I took off my shirt, scars and indents out in the open, which made pulling down my shorts seem easy, although I did hold in my stomach the entire time.

Nude, I turned the corner to enter the pools, and saw a reprieve: towels. Grateful for a buffer, I reached for one. As I unfolded it, I saw the tiny towel didn't offer much coverage. I couldn't wrap it around my body, so instead held it at an angle across my breasts.

Once I cleaned myself off, I was free to explore the pools and saunas. Some were painfully hot while others were painfully cold, meant to aid the body in detoxification. One of the saunas had shimmery pink salt walls and another was fragrant with herbs. Each offered different health benefits, none of which I could read because they were written in Korean.

Walking around naked wasn't so bad, at least not as bad as I had imagined. The small towel became a lifeline between me and total vulnerability. Although naked, I didn't feel completely exposed. Plus, most women hardly looked in my direction. It was a like a silent code of invisibility, or — maybe — acceptance.

As I sat in the warm pool to wait for my scrub service, a thought occurred to me. I had no makeup, no Spanx, and no way to hide myself, but I was totally fine, and, maybe for the first time in my adult life, free to be myself. So seemed the other women bathing beside me, and it was liberating. I had never known comfort in my own skin that way.

It was the most honest expression of femininity I'd ever witnessed.

Right at my scheduled appointment time, a portly middle-aged ajumma (rough translation: auntie) in a lacy black bra and panties came to fetch me. I gave myself over to her commands as she turned, moved, and contorted my body at her will. While she sanded my skin with a coarse mitt, I closed my eyes drifted in and out of reality.

Most Popular

What if I let my husband see me naked? I thought. Was I really so different from other women? I toyed with the idea of exposing myself once more to the man I'd loved for two decades, but then decided against making any hasty decisions. Maybe it was my fear of committing to so much change at once, or maybe it was the consequence of dipping too quickly in and out of hot and cold pools, causing my brain to feel a bit hazy. Either way, I wasn't ready to give myself a firm answer.

When I later reconnected with my husband, we laughed at the strangeness of being scrubbed raw. I learned that nude bathing hadn't been as revelatory for him as it was for me. He didn't explore all of the saunas like I did, but did brag that the men's area had a barber on staff for shaves and haircuts. We both agreed that however unusual and, at times, uncomfortable the bathhouse had seemed, it was interesting enough to warrant a return visit.

Later that night, in my bathroom, changing into my pajamas, I almost opened the door and let my husband see me. Then I decided not to go through with it. I'm still not as brave as the women I saw at the jjimjilbang, and maybe I never will be. But at least I now know I can get naked in front of others and live to tell the tale.